


out of lies

by knoxoursavior



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x18 AU, Fluff sometimes, M/M, Metafiction AU, Multiple times, metatron is a dick, sam is happy sometimes, sam is hurt, sometimes is the keyword
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Metatron tries to write a happy ending for Sam. He tries and tries and tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	out of lies

**Author's Note:**

> 9x18 AU where Metatron captures Sam instead of Cas for ~reasons~

The first time is the longest.

 

*

 

Sam wakes up in his apartment back in Palo Alto. Jess is beside him, beautiful as ever in her baggy shirt and ratty shorts. There's an odd, looming feeling at the back of Sam's mind, but he chalks it up to the nightmares he's been having lately.

"Hey," he says softly, kissing Jess' temple when he sees her eyes flutter open. "Good morning."

"What time is it?" Jess murmurs, her voice hoarse from disuse.

"Six," Sam replies.

"Hm." Jess smiles and gives him a peck on the lips. "It's still early. Why are you up?"

"I couldn't get back to sleep," Sam says. "I was thinking, pancakes for breakfast?"

"With strawberries, please," Jess says, using her doe eyes on him.

Sam nods. "Get some more sleep. I'll wake you up when I'm done"

"Thank you."

Jess' eyes close shut, lying still as she drifts back to sleep, and that feeling of dread lights up in Sam's mind again, up until he sees her lips curving into a content smile. He leaves their room with a newfound purpose, because of he learned anything from his hunting days, it's to always trust his intuition. Right now, it's a blazing red warning sign of _danger, danger!_

By noon, their apartment is stocked up with salt, holy water, and weapons.

 

*

 

Sam doesn't realize there's something terribly wrong until two years later. He sees John on the news, wanted for theft and murder, his eyes all black in his photo, probably taken from CCTV footage. It certainly doesn't help explain things when Dean shows up on an interview.

"He's a dangerous man. He--He'll stop at nothing to get what he wants, and right now, what he wants is a pile of bloody bodies," he says. Sam doesn't want to believe it, doesn't understand, doesn't know what could've happened and led to _this._ He doesn't hesitate to grab his phone, dialing Dean's number because he may have left all those years ago, but he still knows Dean and his brother would never go against John, and certainly not in public.

Except darkness seeps from the edges of his vision, and his room becomes a blur of green and blue. Sam doesn't get past the first ring.

 

*

 

Metatron tries a lot of variations on the Apocalypse but it always ends up the same way. Sam kills Lilith because he thinks that's what will save the world. Even when Metatron makes it so Dean never goes to Hell, Sam still drinks Ruby's blood because that's the only way he thinks he can be useful.

Sometimes Sam doesn't say yes to Lucifer but they find ways to off the fallen angel anyway. Either Dean says yes to Michael or Adam does. Lucifer still ends up in his cage and the world is saved.

 

*

 

The longest the Apocalypse attempts last is five months, mostly because the Winchester brothers get jumpy as fuck when nothing bad happens for too long. No one tries to possess Sam. No one tries to torture Dean. Sam's life becomes a string of mindless salt-n-burns, boring and repetitive.

So it isn't a wonder that what gets him out is more that he's done with the big, fat pile of monotonous _nothing_ than actually noticing that none of it is real.

 

*

 

This time, Metatron gets his big break.

 

*

 

Sam's groggily eating his breakfast, still out of it, when he hears Dean scream.

"Dean?" Sam calls, already on his feet, fork held tightly in his hand.

"It's just Cas," Dean shouts back, and true to his words, a guilty Cas walks out of the bathroom. Sam relaxes, about to offer him some coffee, except he starts drawing protective sigils all over the walls, which would be fine except _they're in a motel_ and now Sam is gonna have to scrub those off in his guilt.

"What's going on?" he asks, crossing his arms.

"Crowley must not find me," Castiel says. "I have betrayed him."

"Betrayed hi--what, you had a deal with him?"

Cas stops, only for a moment but long enough for Sam to know this is a difficult topic. "So to speak."

"Okay," Sam says, his lips pursing. "Okay, what _exactly_ happened?"

"I'll tell you when Dean gets here," Cas says, his tone final. Sam doesn't push him, only nods and goes to help him with the walls. When Dean finally finishes his shower, Cas and Sam have settled on the table, sitting across each other.

"Cas, I already told you about the little boys' room. You can't be in there when I'm in the nude," Dean says, glaring.

"I did not see anything," Cas reassures him, though judging by the _who, me?_ expression on his face, he probably _did_ see something.

"So, what's got you all geared up?" Dean asks, pulling up a chair for himself.

"Crowley wants to kill me. Though I must admit, I tried to kill him first," Castiel says. "Shortly after the war in Heaven started, he made me an offer. We work together to find and open Purgatory, we split the souls. At that time, I thought it was the only way to win, so I said yes."

"And now you're getting heebie-jeebies because?" Dean says, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Cas gets a look in his eyes, one that Sam knows too well. He's seen it in a mirror countless times, especially back when it was still the three Winchester boys saving people, hunting things. It's the one people get when Dean treats them like they're full of shit and then they get tired of _his_ shit. Sam thinks it's mostly because Dean is as sensitive as a piece of rock, but hey, at least he's straight to the point.

"Because I was wrong," Cas says finally, the line of his jaw hard. "And I'm here because I need your help."

Dean glances at Sam, looking angry and betrayed. He has a right to be. Sam knows that Cas is the closest thing Dean has to a bestfriend, and for Cas to start working with a demon, well. It must almost be as bad as _Sam_ working with Ruby. Dean's probably conflicted right now, so Sam gives him the push he needs.

"We'll help you."

 

*

 

Later that night, Castiel crawls into Sam's bed. He breaks the pattern, where Dean nods off first after drinking his way through a six pack, Sam tosses and turns for hours until he finally falls asleep from exhaustion, and Castiel stays in the tiny kitchen, reading up on everything that might help with finding Purgatory or fighting Raphael. Instead, Castiel pushes a leg in between Sam's, arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

"Sam," Cas murmurs, his breath ghosting against Sam's neck.

"Cas?" Sam feels Castiel's hand inching downwards and settling against the curve of his ass. He freezes, and his thoughts become a blur of _whatwhywhatbroughtthison_. "Castiel, what are you doing?"

Castiel leaves a trail of kisses from Sam's jaw to his cheek to the corner of his mouth. "Thanking you."

It's too much for Sam, too out of the blue. It isn't that Sam doesn't like Castiel, because he _does_. He isn't ashamed to admit that for the first few months since he first met Castiel, Sam had this huge crush on him. No matter how chick flick that sounds, and no matter how shitty Castiel treated him back then, Sam had this tendency to blush and lose a considerable amount of his coherency whenever Cas showed up to check up on them. He's mellowed down from then, but that doesn't mean he likes Cas any less.

So even though Sam wants so much for this to be real, he gets the feeling that it _isn't_.

 

*

 

This time is the last time. This time, Metatron gets it right.

 

*

 

Sam and Cas are sitting on the hood of the Impala, looking at the stars. Dean is holed up in the bunker, slaving over an honest to god meal because Sam wouldn't stop badgering him, telling him that with all the unhealthy shit he has in his system, he might just die at age forty because of something as mundane as a heart attack.

They've both gone to Hell and back, with only Cas to thank for saving their asses. They basically told the Apocalypse, Lucifer, Michael, and Fate to stuff it and screw themselves. They were able to put down those Leviathan sons of bitches no matter what it cost them. So no, Sam won't accept death by high blood pressure unless they're living in the suburbs and having barbecues every Saturday.

Of course, Dean's just as stubborn as Sam, if not more, so he insisted on cooking everything himself. Something about how pie-making is an art, and how it should only be handled with good ol' TLC. Sam thinks that Dean just wants to be the first one to have a slice. It's also possible that he's going to bake two pies so he can claim one for himself while he shares the other. He's probably going to hide his in the cooler he's got in his closet, alongside the beer and oreo cookies he's already got in there. It's Dean's secret stash, even though it isn't really secret. Sam has known about it ever since the first time he set foot in Dean's room, just like how Dean found out about his secret porn stash back when he was still an awkward thirteen year old just on the verge of puberty, self-discovery, and self-satisfaction.

Cas understands Dean's obsession with food, what with the whole red meat craving back when the Apocalypse was still their thing (good old times!), but that doesn't mean he wants to see his friend drooling over pies and burgers the way he would over a woman. It's disconcerting, to say the least, and Castiel isn't very sure whether the way Dean worships food is a sin against his Father or not.

That's how they ended up outside, having a much needed breath of fresh air, because Dean's being his usual weird self. Except, when Sam dragged Cas with, he wasn't expecting to be on the receiving end of an unusually talkative angel. Not that he doesn't like it, but it isn't like he and Cas ever had reason to say more than one sentence to each other.

So no one can really blame Sam if he feels a bit nervous when Cas leans close to whisper.

"What do you see when you look at the night sky, Sam?"

"Um. What, the stars?"

"Haven't I told you not to ask stupid questions?" Sam would have flinched, but then he hears the fond exasperation bleeding through Castiel's tone. "I meant, what do you _see_? To you, what are the stars? What is the moon? What do you imagine them to be?"

It's quiet, for a moment, and when Sam answers, there's a faraway look in his eyes and a softness in his voice that makes Cas think _broken_.

"Back when I was a kid, like nine or ten years old, Dean got this streak of bad luck because of a witch we were hunting. Dad pulled Dean and me out of school and made us stay in a motel room until he got rid of the bitch that did it." Sam feels a smile tug at his lips, and he lets it. "We had nothing to do except watch TV, and there was a Doctor Who marathon."

"Ah, yes. The alien doctor who changes his face," Cas says, his forehead wrinkling in thought. 

Sam eyebrows shoot up. "You know Doctor Who?"

"Claire Novak was fond of the tenth incarnation," Castiel explains, trying not to grimace at the thought of the poor girl, now living without a father. Sam knows enough not to comment.

"Okay, so he travels through time and space, yeah? Except he doesn't always end up where he intends to. I like to think that's because of the stars. They pull him in, bring him where he _needs_ to be, where there's people to be saved." Sam glances at Castiel, who's looking intently at him, actually _interested_. He smiles shyly, eyes cast down, careful not to meet Castiel's. "Stars, for me, are more than just blazing balls of light far, far away from home. They're reminders of where we should be, of what we should be striving for."

"Is that why you went to Stanford?" Cas says, sounding almost sorry for asking.

Sam flinches, but his voice doesn't waver when he replies. "Yes. Because I thought I could be more, you know? I thought I could do better, and that's true. I could have stayed, and by this time, I could've been some big-shot lawyer with an amazing wife and my own picket-fence house."

"Why did you return to hunting?"

"Because Dean told me he didn't want to do it alone. Because it was where I needed to be," Sam says, huffing out a short laugh. "So I guess I found my way after all."

"You don't regret it?" Cas asks, and now he's looking up at the stars again, his expression pinched.

Sam sighs. "No. I mean, I'd like it better if all the shit never happened, but I don't regret being there for my family."

"You're lucky," Cas says, a bitter smile on his face. "When I see the stars, all I feel is regret. Everything I've ever done for my family turned out to be a disaster, and now I've dragged my brothers down with me."

"You're too hard on yourself." Sam bumps his shoulder against Castiel's. "You started it, and that means you can also stop it."

Cas faces Sam, puzzlement and confusion apparent in the way his forehead crinkles and his eyebrows furrow. "How do you stay so full of hope? When I lost my grace, all I knew was pain. All I could think of was what I'd lost."

"Well, I'm still alive, right? And we're all together again, us and Dean. That should count for something," Sam says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, the muscles in his jaw jumping. "I wouldn't say I'd try to escape Death the next time he comes for me, but, you know."

Sam brings his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them, drawing himself inwards. It doesn't faze Castiel, who leans close enough so Sam can feel his warmth.

"I think I do."

 

*

 

It feels right because Metatron learns not to rush the story. He builds up to the climax, makes Sam _believe_ his worth.

 

*

 

For the next month, they lounge around in the bunker, waiting for Crowley's word on Abaddon. They binge-watch a couple of TV series, munching on microwave popcorn and greasy takeout. Sometimes, Dean and Sam go out for an easy ghost problem or a rogue vampire, but mostly, they stay inside.

They divide the chores among themselves, like a proper household. Dean cooks and gets the groceries, which leaves Sam and Cas to do all the cleaning. They scrub the floors and wash the dishes and when they get bored enough, they move around the furniture and wait for Dean to stub his toe on the coffee table again.

While Dean prepares dinner, they whip up two mugs of hot chocolate and go outside. They sit on top of the Impala with a blanket wrapped around their shoulders and they talk. They talk about Sam's childhood, about Castiel's slowly fading memories, about everything that they wish would happen.

They grow close, enough to find out that Cas is just a tactile a person as Sam. Touch becomes commonplace with them, up to the point where Dean doesn't so much as wrinkle his nose when Cas leaves a hand around Sam's waist or when Sam leans closer to Cas when they're all sitting together.

It really isn't a surprise when one night, Castiel presses a kiss against Sam's lips. He doesn't ask why, doesn't ask if Cas is sure, because he _knows_. The moment he tastes chocolate on Castiel and feels a hand settling in his hair, he realizes that this has been hiding under their skin for a while now.

So Sam kisses back, and when they go back inside the bunker with their hands entwined, Dean only claps their backs happily and guilts them into getting second helpings of his special beef stew to celebrate.

 

*

 

Sam sleeps next to Castiel, and more often than not, they aren't wearing anything under the sheets, so imagine his surprise when he wakes up with his layers and layers of jackets, his wrists aching and the area around his mouth stinging like hell.

"Sammy."

It takes a minute for his eyes to focus, but when the world stops spinning, he sees Dean standing in front of him, his expression both sour and concerned as he holds a piece of duct tape in one hand and a knife in the other.

"Dean? What's going on?" Sam asks, looking around the room cautiously. They're in the library, still in the bunker. Cas is standing by the table, eyebrows furrowed and obviously ruffled, except when his eyes meet Sam, it feels different. They're the same blue, have the same warmth reserved for people close to Cas, but they aren't the same. Those aren't the eyes Sam wakes up to, not the eyes he sees up close when he leans in for a kiss.

"Metatron got to you. Cas and I managed to trap Gadreel and trade for you," Dean says, his voice clipped. "It's been an entire week, Sammy."

 _Oh,_ Sam thinks, just as a barrage of memories hits him. Knowing happiness, feeling content, and having it ripped away from him over and over again--except for this last time, it hurts more. There's a gaping hole in Sam's chest and it _hurts_.

"Did he do anything to you?" Cas asks, stepping forward. At least, Sam hears him step forward. He can't bear to look and check.

"No," he lies. "He kept me unconscious the whole time."

"Are you sure?" Dean asks, his eyes narrowed. Sam keeps his eyes on the floor, and he pretends not to see the way Cas shifts his weight from one foot to another, like he always does when he's all packed up with nerves.

"Yes, I'm sure."

 

*

 

Sam still dreams about Castiel. Sometimes, he catches himself about to wrap his arms around Cas, or about to lean in for a quick peck. That, he thinks, is Metatron's victory shoving itself in his face.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://connerkent.tk/)!


End file.
